Concerned

Part 5

Author's Note: I am neither a caseworker nor a legal expert of any kind. The legalities in this chapter, and others, are researched and my best guesses but I make no promises that they're completely accurate. Go with the flow, such as it is. I also owe the computer info to my gearhead son. You know what they say; if you want to know about high tech, ask the teenager next door. Thanks, Jamie.

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"Dick? Are you awake?"

"Dick?"

"My parents had to go out and they want me to make sure that you're OK. Do you need anything? Dick?"

He opened his eyes and felt like crap. Amber was standing just inside the door of the small bedroom and he wished, with all his heart and soul that she would go away. "I'm fine, thanks."

He waited for her to leave but she just stood there.

"Maybe after you get up you could show me some more moves? I mean if your ribs feel OK?"

"…Yeah, sure. Gimme a minute."

She just stood there. "God, your eyes are the most amazing color."

"Is there anything else?"

"My father said that you're not supposed to be left alone."

"Why not?" Like he didn't know.

"He thinks that you may try to run away or something." She stared at him. "Will you?"

"Not until I have something to eat." She didn't smile. "I'm not going to run away but I'd like to get up."

"…OK."

"I'm not wearing anything."

"OK."

He waited. She just stood there with a serious expression on her face. She had a mission-she was his fucking prison guard. Fine. Whatever. And if she wanted to cop a look, what the hell, it was just standard equipment. He tossed back the covers, stood up, grabbed some clothes and brushed past her on his way to the bathroom. Her face was the color of Robin's vest-like he cared. After a moment she called through the door, "Are scrambled eggs OK? It's all I know how to cook."

"…Sure." God, it was going to be a long day.

An hour later she had him watching cheerleader practice, the girls were giggling and he wanted to be back at the manor almost more than he'd ever wanted anything in his life. They seemed to think he was Amber's boyfriend-wonder how they got that idea?-and when he told them they were just friends (and even that was a stretch as far as he was concerned) they lightened up slightly, though there were still too many whispers about how cute he was. When he demonstrated how to do the round off/handspring combos they were having trouble with they paid attention and when he showed them a double back lay out with a twist they were convinced that he could probably walk on water. And they thought he was cute, too.

God.

It was stuff he'd been doing since he was seven. He didn't tell them he was one of three people in the world who could turn a quad and that he could join the US Gymnastics team with a phone call, practically. Ever since Robin had done that exhibition at the America's Cup in Madison Square Garden last year, they'd been calling him about it. Well, they'd been calling Robin about it, anyway.

He had thanked them and said he was flattered then told them that he didn't have time.

Practice over, finally, he and Amber headed off for a pizza lunch at the local place. The other girls, thank God, hadn't joined them. He had the feeling they were leaving the lovebirds alone.

Sitting in a booth with their slices she wanted to talk. "My dad is really pissed off at you."

Dick didn't care. He wasn't all that thrilled with old Tom at the moment himself.

"He thinks that you're like one of those kidnap victims who ends up falling in love with the guys who kidnapped them and that's why you've been so snotty since you got here."

"Bruce didn't kidnap me and just drop it." End of subject.

"…Did you really grow up in a circus?"

He nodded.

"How cool is that? Is that where you learned gymnastics?"

He nodded while drinking a coke. "We, my parents and I, had a trapeze act. We were flyers."

"And they were killed in a fall?"

"I was eight. Bruce took me in." He'd accepted it years ago. He knew strangers weren't always tactful.

"He adopted you?"

"Sort of, yeah. He's my guardian."

"Did he do all the stuff everyone is saying he did?"

"He didn't do any of it, it's all bullshit. He's good to me and if he hadn't given me a home I'd have ended up in some shitty foster home."

"So are you all going to have to go to court about this?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe. I'll get back home, though, one way or another."

"My parents said that if they don't let you go back to where you were living that you could stay with us. They'd adopt you."

Jesus. If he had to move heaven and hell, he'd get back to Bruce.

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"Mr. Wayne, do you have anything to say about the investigation concerning your ward?"

"Can you give us a statement, sir?"

"Will there be a press conference?"

"Where is your ward living now?"

"Is there any truth to the charges, Mr. Wayne?"

"We know he was treated for broken bones and lacerations at a clinic in the city the night he was removed from your home, could you comment about that, sir?"

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Nancy had just taken the steaks out to Tom for the grill, Amber was on the phone to one of her friends and Dick was holed up in his room again on his computer. She knew he was hurting, but if the boy would make an effort to meet them even half way it would make all the difference in the world.

"Dick? May I come in?" She heard something she hoped was a 'yes' and opened the door. He was sitting cross-legged on the bed, computer on his lap, typing. "What are you doing there?" She was trying for friendly, not confrontational.

"Talking to a friend." He saw the look on her face. "Not Bruce."

"One of your school friends?"

Screw this. "Garth lives in one of the cities in Atlantis. He's a prince there. I know him through Bruce's contracts with their government." OK, that was a lie, but who cares? Besides, it was the cover story they'd all agreed on.

"Oh, my." What did you say to something like that? "He sounds very exotic. You must have met all sorts of interesting people."

"I guess."

"Amber said you two had a nice time today."

"…Did you want something?"

She sat on the end of the bed. He was still so angry, the poor thing. This must be his worst nightmare. "I just wanted to say how sorry I am about everything that's happened, dear. I know you think you want to go home, but we all just want to make sure that it's what's best for you. So many people are concerned about you-you have no idea."

He stared at her, seeming to fight for some sort of control. "You don't know me, all I am to you is a charity case you can use to make yourself feel good about helping. 'Poor orphan kid, needs to be protected and found a good home'. I've heard it before-I'm a regular Oliver Twist to everyone. But you know what? None of the people who have butted themselves into my life know anything about me-or Bruce, either. You think you have it all figured out-he took me in so he could either use my ass or use me as a punching bag or use me as a beard for whatever the fuck else he's supposed to be doing." He was breathing hard. Furious. "You're all full of shit. All he did was give me a home and treat me well and take care of me. That's it."

"Dick, sweetie…"

"That's it. That's all he did."

"Honey, he hit you and…"

"Once. Because I cut school and stole one of his cars. Are you going to tell me you never spanked Amber? Never? Not once?" She didn't say anything. "I thought so."

"Dick, honey…honestly, we're just trying to help you." She expected another outburst and so was surprised when he gave her a real answer, his anger deflated, at least for the moment. His voice was quiet.

"I know that. But the thing is, I don't want any help, OK? Bruce is, he's the only family I have left, him and Alfred. After my parents died he's the only one who understood what it was like because he's been through it. He's tough sometimes but he loves me-like a father or a mentor. I'm not his punching bag. I'm not a piece of ass to him, he's not into little boys, but you know what? If he did want that from me I'd probably give it to him. I'd give him anything he wanted. When he hit me it was because I'd screwed up. I can't ever repay him for what he's done for me, it's not possible and knowing what he's being dragged through because I screwed up again…Jesus."

He was near tears, his breath had gone ragged and Nancy saw the child break through the tough façade Dick had been hiding behind since he'd arrived. In seconds she had her arms around him and felt his rigidly held body relax as his resolve broke down. She held him as he cried.

"Mom? Dad says the steaks are ready." She turned her head to where Amber was standing in the doorway, shaking her head. After watching for a second, the girl left.

Slowly Dick cried himself out while Nancy held him and rubbed his back and shoulders, careful of his ribs. Finally, after long minutes, he quieted, still while being held. "I'm sorry." It was spoken against her shoulder. "I've been awful since I got here."

"You've had reason."

"You've been nice to me. I've been horrible to you."

"It's alright, honey."

"No it isn't. Bruce would be angry if he knew. And Alfred would be disappointed in me."

"They both mean a great deal to you, I know that." He drew a ragged breath and nodded, still against her. "Tom knows that, too."

"Tom is the one who started this."

"He was doing his job, Dick. He has to report potential abuse by law. He had no choice. And the school had no choice but to call it in."

He pulled away from her, sitting up and wiping at his face. She handed him a tissue from the box by the bed. "I know that, but this isn't a normal case. It's in all the papers and the magazines…No matter what the outcome is, it will always be hanging over us. Bruce will be that rich guy who was accused of hitting his kid. It won't ever go away."

"If he's found innocent…"

Dick stopped her with a look. He'd lived with the press all his life. He knew better. "These stories will be filed. It won't ever go away."

He was right. "…Look, go wash your face and come down for dinner. You'll feel better if you have something to eat."

Fat chance, but she was trying to be nice to him and he'd been a prick since he'd arrived. He nodded to her and she stood up, putting her hand on his head. "It will all turn out, you'll see. When is the hearing set for?"

"Monday at ten." This was Saturday.

"Maybe that will be the end of it then."

Dick knew better. This was probably going the distance.

And he hoped that he wouldn't throw up dinner.

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The next morning Bruce was down in the cave when Barbara's voice came over the speaker without preamble.

"I've just learned that the local police have been issued a warrant to search Tom Weidman's home and that it's good starting today."

There could only be one reason. "They want to search Dick's belongings?"

"That would be my guess. Does he have anything with him that might be a problem?"

"I think he took his computer with him but he knows better than to leave a trail with that."

"I hope so, he should. It's ten-thirty now. If they're going in it will be soon, if we haven't missed them already. I tried to call him, but he's not answering his cell and the house phone just has a machine on. They must have gone out or something."

Bruce sighed. Well, Dick knew how to be careful. It would be alright.

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Dick had been subdued at dinner the night before and hadn't eaten much, but he had been polite and had even helped with the dishes instead of disappearing into his room like he had been doing since he'd arrived. He seemed to have turned some corner and was starting to accept the fact that he was with them for a while, whether he liked it or not.

At least it was a first step.

Sunday morning the Weidman's had gone to the local Protestant church after dropping Dick at the nearby Catholic one in time for the ten o'clock mass. They'd be picking him up after their shorter service let out.

It was unusual for the boy to attend mass, but he'd been raised Catholic and that's where his basic roots were lodged. He'd drop in now and then, often just to sit in the back of some church or cathedral, often not really taking part, just soaking it in. In fact there was a lot about the teachings he didn't agree with but he saw it as a kind of family; you didn't have to agree with everyone all the time to live in the same house.

Or something like that.

Besides, he felt closer to home and his parents when he was sitting in some pew or reciting the Lord's Prayer or Hail Mary. He needed that now. He actually wasn't all that sure how he felt about the Father and the Son and all of that, but it was familiar. It was a link with his past. It was a touchstone for him.

He was standing on the sidewalk when Tom pulled the car around.

The police cars were parked in front of the house when they got back. They hadn't broken down the door or anything; they were waiting for the family to get home.

"Mr. Weidman? I have a warrant to search your home and premises. If you'd unlock the door, I'd appreciate it."

The Weidman's looked shocked, Dick had known it was probably coming and was resigned. He knew how these things worked. He'd been careful, there wasn't much he'd brought with him. His computer was the only thing that could be of any possible interest to them and it was so loaded with security programs and passwords that even Bruce would have trouble breaking in. Barbara might have a chance, but no one with less than her expertise would cut it.

Sure enough, one of the cops had it in his hand.

"You're Richard Grayson?"

He nodded.

"Is this yours, son?"

"Yes, that's my laptop."

"I have to take it as possible evidence."

"I have my school stuff on that. Will I get it back?" In this lifetime?

"We'll try." Not a chance. "Do you have a cell phone or any other electronic devices with you here?"

"I gave my cell to Mrs. Weidman when I got here. There's nothing else."

"Did he receive any letters while he's been here?" They wanted his mail, too. Shit.

Nancy answered. "No, not since he's arrived."

The man handed Dick a receipt for the laptop. "This is it, then."

The police got in their cars and left, lights and sirens off. Not bothering to watch them go, Dick went into the opened house and upstairs to his small bedroom. The drawers had all been gone through and the closet, as had his backpack and they'd looked under the bed and the mattress as well-it was half on the floor along with his clothes.

The scene was almost the same as the night his parents had been killed. The cops had looked all through their trailer to see if there was any connection between the Grayson's and their killers-any love letters indicating an affair or drugs or stolen goods.

That time he'd ended up with Bruce.

Maybe this was some kind of omen, not that Dick believed in them. Maybe he'd end up with Bruce this time, too.

Wordlessly, he set about putting things away. Alfred would expect it of him.

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"Bruce? Do you know what programs Dick has loaded on his computer?" Barbara was back on the monitor screen. They knew that the warrant had been used and that several things had been taken as evidence.

"The usual, I guess. That's the one he used for school."

She didn't look happy at incomplete information. "Did he have DEADAIM loaded?"

"I'm not sure. I know it's on his main computer up in his room, but I'm not sure about the notebook. Why?" He knew a lot about programs, but not as much as Barbara.

"Dick IM's his friends, right?"

"Sure he does. What are you getting at?"

"Usually when you IM someone and then end the session the message just disappears. It's gone. If DEADAIM was on his laptop, then whatever he was saying to whomever he was talking with can be recovered. It logs conversations."

"But his machine has every state of the art security system loaded on it. I know it takes three passwords just to open the main page."

"But it's evidence. They can compel him to give them access. If he doesn't, he'll be in contempt of court."

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